Not So Afraid of the Big Bad Alpha
by QxzVIl
Summary: Stiles thought Derek was the one, until he found someone else. Now Stiles has to find out who that person is through a web of people who he thought would tell him anything. RE-WRITE. PART ONE OF THREE STORIES. YEP. Check out the original fic before reading this, if you don't mind, which is mentioned at the beginning.
1. Unforgivable

Chapter one: Unforgivable

(( Hey everyone! So, like mentioned, this is in fact a re-write of a story, called "Not so Little Red Riding Hood" and it is still on my profile. Go check it out if you are interested, and can see where we started from. Big shout out to my Beta, who shall not be named, because I like privacy, and because I simply don't want to say who it is ;) Alright, enjoy! ))

The door was locked. Derek's pounding on the door, combined with his begging, pleading voice was a mixture of sound that I despised, because Derek never begged. It was because he always got what he wanted. And I mean _always._ It was how he got me in the first place, after he caught me staring for too long without it being awkward back in tenth grade. The thing Derek wanted now was for him and I to just make-up, and move past this whole situation. But I wouldn't give him this. This is something he wouldn't get.

"Stiles, please, I'm so sorry." Banging. "I don't like seeing you this angry. Please, just…" doorknob jiggling. "Come out of the room. Let's talk about this." Derek had stopped both, and I could tell he was leaning against the door, because the door made a pathetic groaning sound as it took his weight.

Derek had forgotten about our Anniversary this year again. Two years in a row, this had happened. The first year, I was too happy to just be with Derek to stay angry for long. He seemed relieved to not have a fight of impending doom on the horizon. But the second year, was when I let my pent up frustration about our relationship slip out. How distant he seemed when we were together, how his job and studies and pack duties would always come first before me. And to be honest, there was just never enough time for me at the end of the day.

I moved in with Derek after I turned eighteen, after a year and a half of being together. He insisted that he didn't want the possibility of my dad interrupting our alone time. I guess I should have cherished it then, because nowadays, it's nowhere to be found. It's always spent with… someone else.

I had put the last of my things in the duffel bag when that had crossed my mind. Derek would always blow me off for this mystery person. It was almost always "Hey, I'm helping someone with work, I'll be home late" or "Sorry, I forgot about this evening, the packs been killing me lately." Or, my god, even the rare "I'm not in the mood tonight. Can we do it some other time?" It was sent impersonally by text, instead of a call. Derek soon trailed off when he started helping this person, and I wasn't jealous, but… Okay yeah, I was _extremely_ jealous, but mostly angry.

"Step back from the door" I say firmly, my voice a little shaky still. He doesn't seem to hear it, so I repeat myself, louder this time, the anger biting into the corners of my tone. "Derek, back away from the door. _Now!" _ I hear a small hitch in breathing, before the shadow by the door fades. When I open the door, he's leaning against the wall, watching me apprehensively. He looks hurt, looking for an answer in my face. I roll my eyes, slinging my bag on my shoulder.

"I'm staying with my dad for a little while." When he goes to speak, I hold up a hand. "Don't, speak. Not until I'm done. You've done enough talking, and now it's my turn to talk." He gulps, nodding. "I need time to let all of this…"_be done and over with, you asshole_._ "_blow over. Got it?" He growls, stepping closer to me.

"You aren't leaving me like this, Stiles, I won't let you." He was getting too close for comfort. So I end up doing the first thing that comes to mind, and spit in his face, making him take a step back in surprise.

"I'm eighteen, if you haven't forgotten. I'll do whatever the _fuck _I want to." Then I went down the stairs, grabbing my keys and leaving Derek.

* * *

Dad was more than accepting of letting me stay at home, ever since I started complaining, and as it kept happening instead of stopping, he urged me to move back home, telling me this was "the stage before abuse," or whatever. I never listened to him, but part of me wishes that I did.

"You aren't going to tell me 'I told you so,' right?" I ask, when Dad sets a cup in front of me, taking a seat across from me.

"Of course not, that's an example of horrible parenting, if you ask me." He folds his fingers together, face not moving as I cough and sputter whatever he gave me in the mug. "You'll want to finish that, it helps with talking about heartbreak."

"Whatever the hell this is, I hate it." I grimace, downing the whole thing, getting it over with. "And I'm not heartbroken, just… going through a rough patch." I mutter the last part, not wanting to say it even thought it was most definitely true.

"Yet." He says, looking at me. "You aren't heartbroken, _yet._ And it's your grandmama's recipe, so don't say anything ill." That actually made perfect sense, all the stuff of hers is good for you, but it tastes like you ran it over with your car and then got a skunk to spray on it afterwards.

"I'm probably stupid for asking you this, because you're a cop, but I'll take the risk anyway. How _do_ you know I'm going to be heartbroken over this?"

"Well, son, I see people like you all the time when I do my job, boyfriend yells at girlfriend, the verbal abuse starts, then the physical violence, then she calls the police, and she spills all about her 'once great, but now deteriorating' relationship. I don't want to see the same thing happen to you, that's all." He pats my hand, trying to comfort me.

I laugh. "Yeah, well, our relationship is on the ropes, but at least he doesn't hit me. I'd have heard about it from you by now anyways." When we first started dating, he threatened to shoot Derek in every vital organ he had if he ever laid a hand on me. It wouldn't do him any good, because he'd just be fine the next day, but it would still be nice to see Derek writhing in pain as bullets penetrated his skin and cries of pain filled the air. Oh wait, it really wouldn't, because I hated that sound too.

"That's true, you were both smart not to act like anything was wrong around me." He exhales, taking a look at me. "So son, what are you going to do about this?"

"What do you mean?" I inquire, giving him a curious look.

"Well you always seem to want to fix things when they were broken, do you remember that toy truck when you were little?"

I roll my eyes. "Oh, don't start this with me again, Dad. I was five years old at the time, and I didn't have anything or anyone to play with. That toy truck was the only thing I had to play with." _Until I met Scott_, I think to myself. But even now, I don't see him. Hell, I don't really see anybody anymore, even in school. They're all either hanging out somewhere else together, or they just don't talk to me, kind of sad, but not really.

"Yeah, sure son, there was more duct tape on that thing than the actual roll." I snort, rolling my eyes as I dissolve into a fit of giggles. He waits until I can breathe to ask again. "What are you going to do?"

I think about it. "Well, like you said, I like fixing things. So, I guess I'll just ask around and see if I can solve this, maybe even try to forgive Derek…" _If that's even possible, _I ask to myself. "And if we do work it out, I'll lay down some ground rules, tell him what I want in this relationship, so that I know he understands what I need." I don't think he'll pay attention to them, but I think it might give me some closure, moving forward.

"Well, I can acknowledge and support you for wanting to fix things. Just keep in mind, though, that sometimes, things aren't meant to be fixed, and that you may just have to let them stay broken." With that, we ended our conversation. "Have you eaten something tonight?" He asked me. "I could cook you something, if you wanted…"

I shake my head. "Surprisingly, I'm not that hungry." It really was, actually, because I was always eating, talking, or moving, maybe even a combination of all three. But after tonight, I just had no energy left to think about anything. "I think I'll just head up to bed, let all this settle in my mind, and start dealing with it tomorrow."

He nods. "Sounds alright to me. Get some rest, and you can worry about it tomorrow." I nod, pushing whatever the hell that was in the cup away and walk off to bed. I have to admit, though, it felt pretty nice to be back in my old bedroom. Heck, I even missed that one lump that digs into my right hip. I didn't know who I would go to first tomorrow, but I'd have to figure something out.


	2. Scott and Allison

(Hi~ So, these chapters will be a little shorter, just so you know. I also have a blog dedicated to my fanfic writing, that'll house various updates, different fic ideas and things of the such. You can find it at sterekismyotpDOTblogspotDOTc om. Enjoy this chapter gaiz~)

Chapter Two: Scott and Allison

Four new voicemails awaited me on my phone when I woke up. They went straight in the garbage, along with the hundred something unopened texts. Not something I want to wake up to, to be honest.

The first thing I do is text Scott, almost begging him to hang out. I don't bring up anything to do with the pack, or school, or even Derek. Just "hey man, want to hang out?" He told me he was hanging out with Allison, so I thought I would kill two birds with one stone by saying that I'd be cool with that too.

Safe to say he didn't seem too happy about that. But then again, what do I care?

* * *

"Stiles, for the last _god damn time_, there is _nothing_ going on with Derek behind your back. Now can we drop it and move on?" Scott was starting to get really angry, and the chances of him biting my head off were slowly growing. "You said you weren't going to ask, and now here you are going right against your word." He scoffs, rolling his eyes, but keeping eye contact with me still.

"I don't know Scott, wouldn't _you_ like to know if something was going on if Allison was possibly _cheating_ on you? Although, then again, you would probably be able to smell them if it really was true, because you're a god damned _werewolf_." Scott looked like I slapped him at that point. It was true; even as a human, I was always still out of the loop, always ill-informed of what was going on besides the occasional snippet I would hear from someone accidentally.

Yeah. I was definitely becoming more like an outcast than a pack mate. And it made me slightly ill.

"Well, if you won't tell me anything, than maybe Allison could-" Snarling cut me off, Scott standing protectively in front of her.

"Don't even _address _her. She's not involved in any of this, so keep her out of this." That was laughable. Truly, I just wanted to bark out a laugh at him. But I wasn't up to it, I didn't have the energy to really try anymore.

"Scott, Stiles only wants to know. He's not hurting anybody by asking." I was thankful that she at least said something.

Scott looked at her. "Why don't you let me take care of this? Okay?" She nods, shooting me an apologetic look before looking down. "Look, Stiles. I am really sorry that it seems like we're keeping secrets from you. But we aren't. Honest." I gave him a "bullshit" eyebrow, but it could be true; there really could be nothing going on, and I could just be paranoid. Never hurt to ask.

"Then _why_ all the hostilities? If there really was nothing going on, then you wouldn't have to get so heated." Yeah. Chew on that one a bit.

"I don't know, your attitude is just really negative. It's just rubbing me the wrong way, I guess." He scratched the back of his head.

"Stiles," Allison found her voice at that point. "We really don't know much. Even if we did, it seems Derek is keeping them… in the dark, maybe. But Scott, you've said there's definitely another presence, right?" He nods, looking back to her. "So, even though we don't have an exact name, or exactly who it is, there's at least _somebody_ there." She looks to me, a small smile playing on her face, looking then to Scott. "That's not too much, right?" She asked, smiling more when he nodded.

Okay, I don't know whether to be comforted by that, or be angered. Derek was definitely seeing someone else. But at the same time, maybe it's just some new addition to the pack. Something just didn't sit right with it being _just_ a new pack mate. That it wasn't just some new addition or presence, and that I should be seriously worried.

"Well, I think that Stiles has more than enough to go on for now. Can we _please_ do something else now?" Scott was eager to change the subject. We all nod, and move on to something else. It was actually pretty nice, just even being in the same company.

Scott checks his phone, then looks at me. "Derek's coming over. I don't know if you want to be around for that or not…" I shake my head, getting up.

"Don't really want to deal with him at the moment. I will, but not now." When I walk to the door, I turn around. "So, thanks, for the bit of info you got me. It's not a lot, but it helps." Scott nods and Allison smiles, so I take that as my cue to go. I tried hard not to think about this, but it was hard not to. It was also hard not to think about the sliver of a black Camaro as I turned the corner.

* * *

"Dad, can I ask you about someone?" He looks up from his paper, looking at me with concern.

"Sure. Who is it you want to know about?"

"Kate Argent." I deadpan. He looks slightly surprised, before a flash of anger flashes across his features. Then he grows stern once more. "Stiles, I forbid you to chase after her. I won't let what she did to Derek happen to us."

I wave my hands. "That's not what I meant at all. I was just, curious if you've kept tabs on her ever since _then._"

"She went to jail, and paid her dues. After that she's been a model citizen, despite how much I hate saying it. But, I have been watching her closely, if that's what you mean." He pauses, the obvious question coming to surface. "You think she and Derek are back together, don't you?"

I shrug. "I don't know. All I know is someones…_there._ Like when you know there's something amiss, but you never can tell that there is."

He rests a hand on my own, comforting me. "Son, I know it's tough. But this is your first resource you asked; you can't expect to find all the answers right off the bat. I mean, wouldn't you think my job might be so much easier if that was the case?" He smiles, and I look at him, before smiling too.

"You do a great job, Dad. Just thought I would say it now…" He shrugs.

"Don't mention it, kiddo. I'm not the greatest, but I do what I can." He takes his hand back, refilling his glass with Scotch. "Who are you planning on asking now?"

I shrug. "Maybe Lydia. Ever since the incident with Gerard, we've been a little bit closer. Just, it sucks that Jackson is _so_ overprotective of her." I laugh. "Did you know he nearly beat me up just for asking her for a pen?" I thought he was scary enough _without_ his wolfy powers. But, here I am, standing corrected. "But, she's on vacation, so I may ask someone else." I shrug, unsure really. My eyes fall on the glass in his hands, which he obviously noticed.

"No." he said firmly, making me throw up my hands.

"I didn't say anything."

No, but your eyes were screaming it." I chuckle, standing up.

"I'm gonna go to bed. Sleep tight, Dad." Except, well, I didn't exactly go to bed right away. I made a phone call first. A long distance one, over four thousand miles away, that would probably be a huge expense on the bill this month, but I'd explain later, and it would be alright.

"Florence School of the Literary Arts, how may I help you?"

"Hi." I say, uncertainly. "Uh, my name is Stiles Stilinski." I hear a throat clear on the other line. "I received a scholarship to your school back in January." He said he remembered me now, and was grateful that I was calling them back. "I'm definitely interested in it, and was wondering if I could start for the upcoming quarter next week?"


	3. Erica and Boyd

Chapter Three: Erica and Boyd

I wake up, the sound of something sizzling in a pan from downstairs. Part of me wants to just ignore it and go back to sleep. But, my stomach betrays me, and soon I smell some kind of food. Wait, we don't have a ghost butler… and I definitely don't remember having hot kinky sex with someone last night, so… is my Dad _cooking?_

He sure is. And it doesn't look too bad, I think to myself as I enter the kitchen that morning, saying hi. But, I don't want to risk it, so I offer to finish cooking for him, and he happily obliges, refilling his coffee.

"So, what are you doing home, Dad? I thought you had to work today." The eggs are almost done, so I turn to look at him.

"Oh, yeah, I decided to take today off. Thursdays are normally the slowest anyways. But I'm on call, so if they _really_ need me, then I'm there." He looks like he's pretty sure that he won't be called in, but there's always that chance. I dish out the majority of the pan and set it in front of my Dad, getting a look of concern from him. "You aren't hungry?" he asks, getting a head shake for an answer.

"Not really hungry. I was thinking of taking some time to myself; give myself some thinking space as well." _And maybe grab some non-decaf coffee_, but not everything needed to be said aloud. "Dad, put the salt down, or I swear-" Too late, he was already shaking it on his eggs. I ripped it out of his hands before he could put more than necessary on.

He grew stern. "Stiles, give your father back the salt." When I wouldn't give it up, he gave me one of his signature looks, before I caved and gave it to him. "Now, was that too hard?"

I scoff. "Just don't put too much on there." That just falls on deaf ears, sadly. After I clean up and get him a refill on his coffee, I go get ready for today. I think I would get coffee first, before anything else though.

* * *

Even though it was Saturday afternoon, the coffee shop was not that busy, just the occasional odd group of people. It was nice. For about two minutes.

I didn't get a good look of the people sitting, just that they were all going about their day. When I looked closer, I saw Erica and Boyd sitting in one of the booths.

"Erica? Boyd?" I ask, moving a bit closer. Erica turns around, looking slightly annoyed, before turning back to Boyd. He definitely looked a lot more civil.

"Stiles, it's interesting to see you here." Boyd replies. Interesting? Huh. Interesting choice of words.

"Yeah, I decided to get some coffee. Can't go wrong with wanting that." Neither of them show traces of a smile. They just look at me. "So, I was actually curious about something and was curious if-"

Erica cuts me off. "It's about Derek, isn't it?" She says it with a tone that says "You're clearly not getting an answer." But I was persistent with my case. He was my boyfriend anyways.

"Well, yeah. Obviously." She laughed, tossing a golden lock of hair over her shoulder.

"Oh god, I wish someone had given you the bite so you wouldn't be so _god damn_ stupid. I mean really, how obvious is it, Stiles?" She looked slightly smug, but mostly annoyed if anything. Ever since Erica became a werewolf, she knew she had the ability take me out with the flick of a wrist. It was something she had used daily. And I didn't need superhuman anything to see it.

"All the power in the world wouldn't make me any less stupid. So stop dancing around the issue and just say it." It didn't have the impact I wanted it to; my voice shook a bit at the end, my confidence not nearly as high as I wanted it to be.

Erica laughed once more, turning to face me fully now, eyes bearing into my face. "Oh Stiles; you just keep trying to be intimidating, it is just too funny to me." She takes a moment to pause, before going on. "Stiles, it's obvious what Derek thinks of you; how he has to make sure he touches base with you, before continuing on with his day; how instead of spending nearly waking moment making sure you're included, and how you're taken care of, he has to deal with you at least once a day; how he smells less and less like you and more like someone else, that person who has yet to be identified.

"He doesn't talk about you like you're his moon anymore; he doesn't bring you around to pack meetings anymore or treat you like you're his anymore, and don't even let me get started on the fact he doesn't look at you Stiles." She rolls her eyes at my face. "He looks at you, sure, but he doesn't _look_ at you anymore. He doesn't love you anymore Stiles; he loves someone else." She takes some sick satisfaction that tears were forming, and that I was shaking. "Now, if you don't mind, Boyd and I have some business to return to." She smiled once more before returning to her seat. Boyd gives me a sad look, before ignoring me fully.

I didn't expect the words to cut so deep. I knew they would when she opened her mouth, but it still didn't prepare me for it. Especially that final sentence.

_He doesn't love you anymore; he loves _someone else.

_Someone else._

I was shook out of my thoughts by a bell ringing behind me, signaling my coffee was done. I was grateful I had paid for it before my eminent meltdown, because I took it and ran, barely making it to my car before the panic attack set in; the shallowness of my breathing, the loss of sight, and the tightness of my chest. That was always the worst part for me, almost always.

"Breathe," I tell myself, gasping for air. The breaths come out in choking gasps, along with coughs, but it definitely helps a little bit. However, I'm still in no state to drive, so I focus on trying to breathe.

* * *

About an hour and a half later, I'm on the road, heading home. My hands are a little shaky still, but they're tolerable. "Never again," I mutter to myself, rubbing my face with one hand.

When I open the door, Dad is sitting at the table, going over what looks like a file from work. Seriously, it's his day off, why should he have to work? But, I was too tired to even argue about it.

"What are you doing?" I ask, leaning against the wall. "I thought it was you day off?"

"Yeah, well I'm on call still." He looks up. "How was your day out?" Asking me. I tense a bit, before relaxing. I had no intention of repeating what happened previously.

"Um… Pretty good. Nothing too eventful went on, just walked around and thought about some stuff." It was best not to say anything, not wanting to put more weight on his shoulders. "I think I'm going to head upstairs. Just come get me if you need anything, alright?" He nods, and I head upstairs. Even after today's happening, there was one more phone call I needed to make. One that might get me somewhere.


End file.
